


Needy

by twinsarein



Category: Smallville/DCU
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinsarein/pseuds/twinsarein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce gets caught by Poison Ivy.  Superman helps him out of his difficulty, but gets very turned on.  He takes some private time to calm his body down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needy

Clark all but flies into his apartment, only a lifetime of being taught and practicing caution preventing him from doing so. Urgency has him collapsing back onto his living room couch in a sprawl, instead of stripping from his uniform and heading for the shower to do this, as he usually does.

Frantically pushing his hand down the stretchy material of his pants, Clark wraps a hand firmly around his cock. He jerks up and down faster than the human eye can follow. The angle is bad, but he doesn’t care; doesn’t even notice.

Within less than a second, his body tenses and he’s coming all over his fist and the inside of his uniform. “Bruce,” is the only word that he is able to moan out of a chest constricted with want and desire.

After several deep, shuddering breaths in and out, Clark relaxes his grip on his cock, but doesn’t remove it. The most desperate edge is off, but he knows from the way his hand is still trembling and things low in his belly are still clenching, that he is far from done. Using his clean hand to push down his uniform pants to below his balls, Clark lets his legs spread open, as he tightens his grip.

Hand moving at human normal now, Clark allows his head to loll back against the couch. Having that first orgasm out of his system is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he can now think a little more clearly; he isn’t reacting at just above animal instinct.

Thinking more clearly, however, means that he starts getting flashes of what happened earlier that led to his needs escalating to this point. And that means his level of need ratchets up some more.

He’d been on duty in the Watchtower, and had been checking in on his teammates out in the field. The Flash, Wonder Woman, and The Atom were all doing fine. The Green Arrow looked as though he’d run into trouble, but he’d never radioed in, and he was carrying on, so Superman left him to it.

Then, Superman had located Batman’s signal, and he’d zeroed a camera in on his best friend. He could tell Batman had been captured, and it looked as though he was tied up. But, the ropes looked wrong. They seemed to be moving. Superman zoomed the camera in closer.

As soon as he had, Clark could make out the dozens of tentacle-like tendrils Batman was wrapped up in. Plants of a species Clark couldn’t identify. Poison Ivy, then. He used the camera to confirm, and spotted her easily enough.

His first instinct was to zoom down to help. But, this was Bruce. Batman hadn’t radioed for help, and, more than almost anyone else, with the exception of Alfred, Clark knows Bruce can take care of himself. Prefers to take care of himself.

So, he’d observed. His eyes had roamed over each tentacle to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere it shouldn’t. And didn’t that thought send Clark’s mind to places it shouldn’t be? His breathing had sped up, and his cock started to harden in his uniform.

A situation that hadn’t been helped by watching Batman struggling to get free, muscles bunching and rippling in his efforts. The tendrils sliding along his body in the most obscene parody of intimate, but ultimately innocent, caresses.

It became even worse when the tentacles started oozing a substance that ate away at Batman’s armor, but left his skin untouched. As he sits on his couch remembering, Clark’s hand speeds up on his cock, gripping even tighter and thrusting his hips into his hand.

Bruce’s name leaves Clark’s lips in a moan again as he thinks about the dusky pink nipples that had been revealed by what those tentacles did. The thought sends Clark’s free hand under his uniform shirt and he pinches and pulls at his own nipples until they’re hard points.

Clark remembers that he’d almost done this, almost touched himself, in the Watchtower. His hand had been inching towards his uniform-covered cock, when one of the tendrils worked its way around Bruce’s neck. And, even though Clark knew Bruce would get out of it, that was just too much. Clark couldn’t just watch those things wrap around Bruce’s vulnerable neck.

Super speeding out of the Watchtower, Superman had swooped in, zapping tendrils with his x-ray vision from as far away as he dared, and scooped Batman up. Using his super-breath, he knocked Poison Ivy out, and radioed for a team to come pick her up. Then, he’d deposited Bruce near the Batmobile, being careful to keep the car between him and Bruce so as to hide the telltale bulge in his uniform pants.

He’d stood there through Bruce’s tirade, getting even harder as he could see the exposed skin much better from this close, could see the sheen of sweat Bruce’s struggles had covered him with. As soon as Bruce’s voice trailed off, Clark offered his apologies in a strangled voice, and then took to the air for his apartment.

As he remembers those seconds after he arrived, his desperation from that time revives, even harder and faster than before, and his balls draw up again. Adding a twisting motion to his wrist, and pinching a nipple hard, Clark falls over the edge of pleasure, shouting Bruce’s name. His release wets his hand and his quivering stomach, even getting some on his still cloth-covered chest.

It isn’t until the third time that Clark bothers to get naked, but his uniform had really taken a beating during his first two orgasms. Pushing his feet against the floor, Clark lets himself float towards his bed. He’s feeling much too relaxed to really want to move, but he knows if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll wind up spending the night on the lumpy piece of furniture when he’s done.

The urgency has abated a great deal, and this time his touches on his shaft are lazy and designed to build the pleasure up slowly. He thinks this might be the last orgasm he needs to get back to normal, this time. To be able to look at Bruce, work with Bruce, without getting hard. Although, there are some plants he might never be able to look at without blushing again, without daydreaming.

The couch had been an awesome place to jerk off, but the bed is even better. He can draw his legs up and stroke behind his balls easily. Even work his way a little lower and feel the wrinkled skin of his pucker. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t done this on the couch or bed before.

Brain niggling at him, Clark knows there must be a reason he always jerks off in the shower, but right now, he can’t remember what that reason is. Shrugging off the little voice in his head, Clark pushes the tip of one finger inside himself, as his other hand keeps up a steady rhythm on his cock.

As he fingers himself open, he starts imagining it being Bruce touching him, fucking into him. Wishes it could be. Wishes that the tendrils from the plants could help - teasing him as Bruce opens him up. Arching his hips off the bed, one finger quickly becomes two, then three.

Once more, his breathing speeds up, and the hand on his cock does, too. Especially as he gets lost in the fantasy of Bruce being here. Kissing him, biting him as he thrusts, his strong will gaining Clark’s compliance.

Head thrashing on the bed, moaning loudly, Clark rubs over that spot inside of him that feels so good. Sparks prickling along his body as he starts moving his fingers again, making sure to go over that spot each time. “Yeah, Bruce. Hold me down. Do it. Fuck into me. Do it hard. Please, Bruce. God, yes! Yes!”

With a cry of completion, Clark’s ass clenches around his fingers, and his release decorates his stomach and chest again. Panting hard, and shuddering with aftershocks, Clark carefully slides his fingers free of his ass, and he relaxes his grip on his cock, letting gravity pull the hand where it will - which is apparently only as far as his thigh.

Clumsily, Clark shifts around, grabbing a wad of tissues to clean himself up with. Showering would probably be a good idea, but he can’t force himself to move that much. After three orgasms, even the Man of Steel gets tired.

As he slips further towards slumber, Clark’s mind once more drifts to why he’s never let himself have that sort of pleasure anywhere else but the bathroom. It has something to do with Bruce and Bruce’s ears. Or...not ears, exactly, but listening.

Just as he thinks he’s on the cusp of remembering, Clark slips a little deeper under. His absolute last thought is still about Bruce. Not what he had been trying to remember, though, instead, Clark wishes that Bruce could somehow find out about Clark had just done and be okay with it. He wishes he could go after what he wants, without risking their friendship.

Outside, in the night sky, a shooting star zooms by.

 

  



End file.
